


A Tale of Two Olivers

by almostannette, Binary_Sunset



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Boners, Bikers, Bookstores, Confident Oliver, Elio is 18, Elio is a brat as usual, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Motorcycles, includes moodboard, seriously Elio is SO horny in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostannette/pseuds/almostannette, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Binary_Sunset/pseuds/Binary_Sunset
Summary: Elio's father won't stop going on and on about his new pet PhD student, Oliver Goldfarb.But as Elio starts to get to know the cute regular at his bookstore, he figures he may be able to have his own Oliver, all to himself: a sweet sensitive biker boy who owns more leather than a cattle ranch.





	A Tale of Two Olivers

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Binary_Sunset here!
> 
> Annette and I initially came up with the idea of biker!Oliver together, and she got a couple thousand words down in a draft before abandoning it. I loved the idea so much that I couldn't help but finish it up, so I adopted her WIP! If you like what you see here, please send her your love as well!
> 
> Also the moodboards at the top of this fic were made by me and are rebloggable [here](https://binary-suunset.tumblr.com/post/179213804484/a-tale-of-two-olivers-by-binarysunset) with image credits.

“Anything new about Oliver?” Marzia asked Elio. The two of them were unpacking of a shipment of books that had arrived that morning.

Elio groaned, slicing open the top of a new box. “Dad was gushing about him _again_ at breakfast, can you believe it? For weeks it’s been nothing but ‘Oliver this, Oliver that’. “I’m so sick of it.”

Marzia gave him a playful poke in the side. “If it goes on like this, they're going to announce their engagement soon,” she giggled. “At this rate, I'll say it will take a month, tops.”

Elio rolled his eyes. Marzia stuck out her tongue, before returning to the task at hand and unpacking another box of books.

“It’s just annoying,” Elio said. “I never thought it was possible to hate someone I haven't even met? Well, not hate, but it’s...grating.”

Elio’s father, Samuel Perlman, was a classics professor at NYU, and he’d apparently become smitten with his newest PhD student. At least it felt that way to Elio.

“You don't think your dad and Oliver…,” Marzia trailed off, but made some vague gestures.

“Fuck, no,” Elio replied. Marzia’s words had put some rather... unsavory images in his mind. “He wouldn't gush to my mom, then, would he?”

“Well,” Marzia raised an eyebrow. “Ménage à trois, then.”

Elio scowled, which just made Marzia cackle as she relished in her best friend’s misery.

“You’re evil,” he said. “I feel like I need to bleach my brain now, thank you.”

Before they could bicker more with each other, the bell rang, signalling that a new customer had entered the shop.

“I'll get it,” Elio said. He made his way to the front room to see what the customer might need, but the man in front of the door nearly made him stop in his tracks.

He was _tall_ \- at least half a foot taller than Elio - blond and broad-shouldered, and he had a motorcycle helmet tucked under his left arm. He was, as was a bit more relevant to Elio’s interests, wearing leather pants which left little to the imagination.

Elio forced himself to snap out of it and ask the man if he can help him with anything. The good news was that Elio could. The bad news was that the “help” didn’t involve peeling off those leather pants. Which was honestly kind of a let-down.

The tall man pulled out a list with a number of book titles and Elio’s heart most certainly _didn't_ skip a beat when their fingers brushed as the man handed it over.

They were academic books, mostly. Elio recognised a few from his father’s bookshelves at home, but plenty were foreign to him. Despite his father’s love of all things old and European, Elio had never really looked more into things like that.

“I think we have most of these. I’ll just look them up in the computer.”

“Please, that would be amazing,” the man said with a voice that, rightfully, shouldn't sound nearly as hot as it did.

(Thank god Elio was standing behind the counter, otherwise the man might’ve noticed how much certain parts of his anatomy took notice.)

Elio typed each of the titles into the computer and waited for it to load. He’d never been more thankful for his boss’ apparent refusal to update the computer to something more recent than Windows 2000. The longer he got to spend with this guy the better.

“Is this for, like, a class or something?”

It wasn’t a bad assumption. It was the beginning of the semester, so they got a fairly consistent trickle of students looking for required texts for their classes.

“Some of them are, yeah. A few are for my thesis. They’re surprisingly hard to come by outside of Amazon. And if you think I’m lining Jeff Besos’ pockets any more than I have to, you’re mistaken.”

He chuckled. “That’s a mood if ever I’ve heard one.” In all honesty, though Elio was only half listening. There was a certain earnest expression in the man’s eyes that he just found intensely handsome, and the fact that the man was an angry anticapitalist rebel just made him even more attractive. A rebel with a heart of gold.

Elio snapped out of it as soon as he noticed the screen change. “Alright, looks like the damn thing finished loading.” He scrolled through the various titles, rattling off where they were located and whether or not they were in stock. When he got to the last one, he frowned. “Looks like someone snatched up our last copy of Ovid’s _Metamorphoses_. I could order it for you, though. If you wanted.”

 _Please want to_ , Elio begged silently. He wasn’t positive whether or not there was a higher power out there, but when it came to picking up cute boys, he’d like all the help he could get.

The man smiled. “I’d appreciate that a lot, actually.”

Elio wrote down the book title. “If you give me your phone number, we’ll call you when your book is ready,” he said..

“Or I could stop by the book shop every other day and ask,” the blond man replied, calm but a little too quickly.

“Why would you…,” Elio started, but stopped himself once he caught the amused twinkle in the man’s eyes. “Smooth,” Elio said. “Really smooth. Give me your number and I'll call you once we got the book.”

“Fair,” the man said before rattling off a phone number.

Elio jotted it down next to the book title. “Your name, please?”

“Oliver,” the blond man replied.

Elio blinked, taken aback, and forgot to write down the name. “Oliver?” he mumbled.

“Are you feeling alright?” Oliver asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Elio said, a second too late to sound natural. “Sorry, I was just surprised.”

Oliver smirked, like he wanted to follow it up with a joke, but he didn’t. Instead, he just said that he’d be waiting for Elio’s call and turned to leave the shop.

“Later,” he said, over his shoulder once he was halfway through the door halfway through the door.

Elio needed a second to realize that this was a goodbye, and another ten seconds to remember that he’d forgotten to ask for Oliver’s last name. Not that it mattered much, since he’d gotten his phone number, but it still felt sort of incomplete, like Oliver’s family name was something Elio should know.

He had half a mind to write “Goldfarb”, his father’s Oliver’s last name, but he stopped himself.

“What a cutie,” Marzia said behind him with a low whistle. “He sure fills out those pants well. Damn.”

Elio gave her a playful shove, which just made both of them giggle.

 

* * *

 

Maybe it was a mistake to tell Oliver not to show up until his book got here. Every day Elio was working, he found himself perking up every time the bell rang to signal someone’s arrival.

It was stupid, to be so hopeful that an absolute stranger would show up for no reason, but it didn’t stop Elio from being disappointed every time a customer entered the store that lacked Oliver’s stormy grey eyes and neat blond hair.

Technically, Elio had his phone number, so he could call and ask him to come around, pretending that there was something wrong with the order, but that would be a bit too stalker-y and insincere. Plus, if Marzia found out, he’d never hear the end of it.

(He _certainly_ didn’t jump at the chance to check the mail each day he was working, just to see if Oliver’s book had been delivered already.)

After he returned to work after his day off, Marzia was already waiting for him, grinning like the cat who’d gotten the canary. “Guess who was here yesterday and asked about you?”

Elio shrugged. “Give me a hint?”

“Well, they wore a leather jacket, had endless legs and seemed really interested in getting to know you better.”

Elio’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

Oliver had asked about _him_?

Elio waved away any high hopes. Maybe he was just worried about how long his delivery was taking. Or just wanted to talk some more about Heroclitus.

Weren’t biker guys usually hetero?

“I told him it was your day off today and that he should try again today,” she added. “So, if you’re lucky…”

“You couldn’t have told me before?” Elio cut in, fidgeting slightly. Ten minutes after his shift started was too early to sneak out for a smoking break, but he could really do with a cigarette.

“What’s wrong with you?” Marzia asked. “I thought you’d be excited.”

“I _am_ ,” Elio assured her.

She raised her eyebrows.

“I’m nervous.”

“What do you have to be nervous about?”

Elio hesitated. “What if he’s straight?”

Marzia rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. You know my gaydar’s fucked, Elio. He looks like the type to be secretly kinky, though.”

“You think so?” Elio asked, much louder than he intended.

She shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but he could clearly see that the corners of her mouth are twitching. “All I’m saying is I don’t think he’s wearing leather only because he rides a motorbike,” she said with a wink.

Elio opened his mouth to reply, but Marzia’s words had prompted his fantasies regarding Oliver to take a rather... unexpected turn and he forgot what he wanted to say.

“You might want to shut your mouth,” Marzia said, making a show of nonchalantly playing with her hair. “...But if you happen to get that far, I want to know all the details.”

The day progressed and Elio couldn’t concentrate on anything except for the possible opportunity of seeing Oliver again. “Did he say when he wanted to stop by?” he asked, an hour after their shift began.

Marzia shrugged, sweeping a few autumn leaves out of the entrance and into a dustpan. “I didn’t want to tell him when you were working without your permission, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he came over again soon. He said he passed the shop on his way to campus.”

So why hadn’t he visited sooner? Was he just frustrated with how long his book was taking to come in or did he just genuinely want to chat some more?

Elio felt his heart leap. He clenched his fists in an attempt to suppress it. Oliver had taken four days to show up last time, there was no reason for him to pop by now, especially not as Elio’s shift was nearly finished.

As soon as Marzia left to go put away the broom, Elio heard the bell ring.

He looked up, trying to suppress the swell of hope in his chest. He almost thought he was hallucinating when he saw a familiar tall, handsome presence in the doorway.

Oliver walked over towards the counter, giving Elio a smile. He leaned against the counter, looking Elio right in the eyes.  “I was disappointed when I missed you yesterday.”

Elio felt his face heat up. Of _course_ he was blushing, Oliver was so goddamn handsome when he smiled. And with him leaning over like this, their faces were much closer than they’d ever been before...

“I…” His voice came out like a whimper. When had his throat closed up? And why were his palms so sweaty? Elio cleared his throat. “I was too. Is there anything I can help you out with? Or did you just come to chat me up for the last half hour of my shift?”

Oliver chucked. “Both, honestly. But I’ll get the actual request out of the way. Can you check if you have a copy of _The Persian Boy_?”

Elio smiled and plugged it into the computer. “Isn’t that the book about Alexander the Great’s Persian boy toy? And he’s, like, _super_ gay?”

“Actually he’s super bi. Alexander was very much in love with his wife. He told his generals to go fuck themselves when they told him to hold off on marrying her.”

“As a bi I appreciate that distinction. Surprised to hear it from a hetero, though. Were you, like, the token straight friend in high school?”

“I was. Until I realised how much I liked guys, that is.”

Elio felt his face flush. “Shit, man. Sorry for the assumption. I just kinda thought…” He couldn’t finish that sentence. It was way too embarrassing to admit that he’d assumed Oliver was straight because of how he dressed.

And, wait, did that mean Oliver had actually been flirting with him when they’d first met? That just made his face heat up even more.

“You thought I was hetero because I ride a motorbike.” He shrugged. “I get that a lot, don’t worry. And then half the women I talk to think I’m gay because of all the leather. You just can’t win these days.”

Elio let out a low whistle. “Agreed.” As a bi guy himself, it was hard for people to understand that, yes, he did indeed like both, that just because he thought Nicole Kidman was stunning in _Moulin Rouge_ didn’t mean he couldn’t _also_ love Ewan McGreggor, even if he couldn’t sing.

He turned his attention to the computer. “Anyway, looks like we have it in. Want me to show you where it is?”

Oliver gave him a smile. “Lead the way.”

Elio walked Oliver to the bookshelf. “Renault, right?” He got on his tiptoes and reached up to grab it off the top shelf. He passed the book over to Oliver. “Here you are.”

“Thanks.” He took the book from Elio’s hands, their fingers brushing against each other. “I actually have a question for you. I was wondering if you were busy on Thursday?”

Was Oliver… asking him out? He decided to tell him the truth and see where it went from there. “I’m opening, but I should be done in the afternoon.”

“Alright. I’ll pick you up at 7? I think the new Marvel movie is still playing out in the suburbs, if you want to catch that.”

Elio had actually been going through a fair amount of franchise fatigue where Marvel was concerned. Seriously, they were at, what, five or six films a year now? You couldn’t throw a stone without hitting something with Iron Man or Spider Man on it. But with Oliver?

Yeah, being with Oliver would totally make everything worth it.

“That sounds wonderful. You can just park in front of my house, I’ll come out to you.”

He _really_ didn’t want his family seeing their son get picked up by some leather-clad biker boy. Oliver seemed sweet enough, but he wasn’t sure his parents would share that sentiment.

Elio checked the time on his phone. “Shit, I was supposed to clock out, like, five minutes ago. I’ll text you my address, and I’ll see you then.”

God, in just two days, his very own sexy biker boy was gonna be taking him out on a date.

Fucking amazing.

 

* * *

 

Thursday night finally came around and Elio was jittering with excitement. As his father went on and on about his own, boring Oliver, Elio’s fantasies took over.

He imagined Oliver, tall and blond and clad head to toe in leather, busting through the door in black combat boots. He’d throw his arm over Elio’s shoulder and give Samuel a smile. “He’s mine for the night. Hope you don’t mind.” He’s give Elio a kiss on the cheek right before—

“Elio? Did you hear me?”

His father’s voice jostled him out of his fantasy.

“Sorry, what? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I was asking if you’d like to come to my Classics class tomorrow. We’re talking about Theseus and the Minotaur.”

Elio rolled his eyes. “And spend my one day off talking about old European shit with you and your golden boy? No thank you.”

Samuel sighed. “Elio, I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to, but I really think that if you met Oliver, the two of you--”

“--would really get along,” he interrupted. “I get it. I just wish you’d let me make my own decisions, alright?”

His father pushed his food around his plate, probably trying not to show his disappointment in Elio. “I understand. But if you change your mind--”

“I won’t.” He quickly finished up what remained of his dinner. “Besides, I have a date tonight. Might not be back until tomorrow. So I probably couldn’t go to your class even if I wanted to.”

It was a pretty weak excuse, but Samuel was probably used to that at this point. He _always_ made flimsy excuses not to hang out with his father and Greatest Thinker and Wisest Human, Boring Oliver.

“Where are you two going?” He changed the subject, and that made Elio feel a bit less crappy about blowing off his dad.

“We’re gonna go see the new Marvel movie. And then probably hang out afterwards. I’ll let you know if I’m not gonna be home in the morning.” He got up and made his way to the kitchen, rinsing off his plate before he put it in the dishwasher.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” his father asked as he walked into the kitchen to do the same.

In the past, Elio had explained that, no, not everyone was a boy or a girl and some people preferred they/them pronouns and some people were intersex, but he knew this was more of his father’s way of asking “can you get this person pregnant and what pronouns should I use?” than any sort of slight against nonbinary people.

“’Boy. He’s been a regular at work lately, and he asked me out. Very handsome.” He purposefully didn’t mention that he name was _also_ Oliver and spurr his father into beginning another speech about how amazing _his_ Oliver was and how great of a writer and how Elio should _totally_ read his thesis because it’s _so_ interesting.

No, that was something he’d rather avoid.

Samuel smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Alright, Elly-belly. If anything happens--”

Elio cut him off and waved his hand in the air. “I know, I know. Ask him if he’s been tested and always use protection.”

“I was going to tell you to call us if you feel unsafe. Even if it’s the middle of the night, your mother or I will pick you up.”

Elio felt his heart sink. Sometimes he forgot his parents actually really gave a shit about his wellbeing. “Oh. Thanks.”

He could feel bad for long, though, because he heard a motorcycle revving its engine. It was far too loud to just be coming from the street. Oliver was in the driveway. “I think that’s him.” He gave his father a kiss on the cheek before brushing past him to get the front door. “Night, Papa, I’ll text you if I’m gonna stay overnight.”

Elio walked out of the front door to find Oliver, sanding under a street lamp and leaning against his bike, his face lit from the glow of his phone screen.

Now, Elio new fuck all about cars and even less about bikes, so he had no idea if Oliver’s bike was a good one. But he _loved_ the sleek curves of the thing, its retro style oozed elegance and grace and the way the black paintjob caught the light of the street lamps made it look even more sophisticated.

His mind supplied an image of himself being bent over the thing, Oliver behind him, kissing his neck as he pressed his--

Nope!

As sexy as the thing was, he didn’t need to be popping a fucking boner at the sight of it. Though, if he filed that image away for later in his spank bank, that was his own business.

“Nice bike,” he said, making his way over towards Oliver.

The man looked up from his phone, and Elio caught a glimpse of Oliver’s face. “Thanks. I fixed her up myself, actually.”

Elio was going to say something in response, but he just noticed Oliver’s eyeliner. It was dark and thick, and it reminded him of Gerard Way cerca 2006, which was never a bad look. It contrasted nicely with his bright grey eyes and it was also _insanely_ hot. As were his black skinny jeans, which hugged his thighs and made them look absolutely delicious. Rounded out with his usual leather jacket and fingerless gloves, and Elio once again found himself fighting against, uh, a _rising tide_ , so to speak.

He had to focus on Oliver’s words to fend off boner number two, but it didn’t help things. The idea of Oliver wearing some tight, grease-stained white tank top, bending over to get a good look at his bike’s innards…

Yeah, that was just as bad.

Still, he should say something. He’d been quiet for a few too many seconds now, and he didn’t want Oliver to think he was socially inept.

“You, uh… that’s really cool. Fixing things. I’ve never been good at that.”

...aaand now he wanted a fissure to open up in the Earth and just fucking swallow him.

Oliver pulled his hand up to mask a chuckle and Elio noticed something catching in the light.

Was that…. nail polish? _Glittery_ nail polish? Glittery nail polish in the exact colours of the bi flag? Who _was_ this guy?

“I like the makeup,” Elio supplied, trying to recover from his own stupidity.

Oliver smiled and admired his nails. “You thought I was hetero last time, so I had to rectify that. So I threw on the same makeup I wore to Pride.”

Elio balked. “You were at Pride? I think I would’ve remembered seeing you at Pride.”

He laughed. “I had my helmet on. My club does a lot of outreach for at-risk and homeless LGBT kids, and most of us are queer ourselves, so we lead the local parade every year.”

“Oh.” Elio smiled. “That’s… nice actually. I wasn’t expecting a biker gang to do so much community service.”

“Yeah, they helped me out a lot when I was younger. The two senior members are this lesbian couple in their sixties. They don’t have any children, so they’ve just decided that every queer kid in the county is their child now.”

Elio felt a sudden warmth in the chest. Oliver was such a sweet guy, behind all the leather and the eyeliner. Not everyone who was in college would find the time to help out their community, so it was nice to see that Oliver could.

Oliver reached out and grabbed two helmets from beside his bike. “Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?”

Elio shook his head.

“Alright. So, first of all, you need to wear a helmet.”  He took one of the helmets under his arm and passed it to Elio. “And when we get on, you’re basically going to hug me and lean the same way I do. Got it?”

Elio nodded and put the helmet on his head. He tightened the chinstrap and watched as Oliver straddled the bike.

“Don’t be worried. We’re only going a few blocks, and we shouldn’t be going very fast.”

Elio nodded slowly and climbed onto the bike behind Oliver. He wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and pulled himself flush to his back. It turns out that riding on the back of a motorcycle _does_ involve as much bodily contact as they show on T.V. But, in a way, it was kind of fun and rebellious. The bike was definitely made to seat two, but it felt a bit like he wasn’t quite supposed to be here, like sitting on a counter or sitting on the arm of a chair, but with a lot more inherent danger. He was intimately aware that, unlike a car, there was absolutely nothing standing between him and the road should he fall off, especially with the wind whipping around his clothes. Whenever he felt unstable, though, he’d press his body closer to Oliver’s and immediately feel safe again. He was so warm and solid, it felt like nothing could tip him over.

Finally, they pulled into the parking lot of the movie theatre. Oliver put down the kickstand of his bike and extended his hand to let Elio off. He took it.

“So, what did you think?”

Elio smiled. “It was pretty cool. I’d do it again.”

“I’m glad I didn’t ruin motorcycles for you, then.” He chuckled and started towards the ticket booth. “Now come on, let’s get tickets before they sell out.”

 

* * *

 

The movie was okay. Elio couldn’t quite keep track of all the characters and really had no clue what was going on half the time, but Oliver let him rest his head on his shoulder, and that made things a whole lot better.

After the show, they ended up in the parking lot again, and Oliver had his arm around Elio’s waist. He’d seemed so hesitant when he’d put it there at first, but once Elio leaned into it, he’d gotten more confident. And now, Elio didn’t want him to let go.

They approached the bike. Oliver leaned against it. “Do you want me to bring you home?”

“If you’re talking about bringing me back to my home, no.”

Oliver snaked his hand close around Elio’s waist, toying with one of the belt loops on his pants. “What if I bring you back to mine?”

“Then yes. Absolutely.”

Oliver hopped on his bike and extended a hand to Elio. “Well then hold on tight.”

Elio put his arms around Oliver’s waist and pulled him close.

Oliver drove them through the town, speeding down the empty suburban streets, the wind whipping against their clothes. He eventually pulled up outside of a Victorian-style mansion, the type that usually got chopped up into smaller apartments nowadays.

“You live here?” Elio asked.

Oliver gave him a smile as he took off his helmet and shook out his hair, letting it fall back into its neat style once more. “Yeah, the bottom floor is all mine. Want me to give you the grand tour?”

Elio hummed and traced the waistline of Oliver’s pants. “Can it wait?”

Oliver laughed and put an arm around Elio’s shoulder. “I guess. But can I at least show you the bedroom?”

Elio held out his hand. “Please.”

Oliver grabbed it and lead Elio through his living room and into the bedroom. The bed was unmade, with all of the blankets strewn off to one side.

Elio chuckled and sat on the edge of it. “Not expecting company tonight?”

“Well, when you invited me out for a movie, I was just expecting to go out for a movie.”

Elio placed a hand on Oliver’s knee. “We don’t have to sleep together if you don’t want to.”

“I appreciate that.” Oliver put his hand on Elio’s hip. “I’d like to kiss you, though.”

Their faces were so close, Elio could see the streaks of blue in Oliver’s grey eyes. “I’d like that too.”

They stared at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to initiate. They locked eyes, laughed, and then finally locked lips.

It was so different from what Elio had imagined. Oliver was such a sweet kisser. His lips were soft, and his hands were gentle against his hip.

When Oliver pulled back, he gave Elio a smile. “Good?”

“So good.” Elio put a hand on Oliver’s cheek. He stroked the man’s face before leaning in for another kiss. It started out similarly chaste, but Elio slipped his tongue into Oliver’s mouth. He could feel the other man chuckle against his lips. Soon, Elio was pulled closer, his chest flush against Oliver’s.

It was Oliver who broke the kiss, meeting Elio’s eyes again. “You are so beautiful. I couldn’t believe you said yes when I asked you out.”

“How could I say no? I mean… look at you.” He stroked down Oliver’s chest as if to make his point.

Oliver flushed. “Still, you can’t blame me for being shocked.” He leaned in to give Elio another kiss.

They spent the night like that, lazily kissing each other on Oliver’s bed. Before long, they were in each other’s arms under the covers.

“Can we do this again?” Elio asked, his voice slightly hoarse from all the kissing.

“Of course we can.” Oliver touched his face, then thought for a moment and frowned.

Elio sat up. “What?”

“Just remembered that I’m behind on my research.” Oliver groaned and put his hands over his eyes. “I have a meeting with my supervisor in a few days and I’ve only read a couple of the books you sold me.”

“Am I distracting you?”

Oliver let out a chuckle and laid his head on Elio’s lap. “Absolutely. I think I’ve needed the distraction, though. I was working my ass off before I decided to ask you out.”

“If that’s the case, I’m happy to oblige. I can be quite distracting,” Elio said with a Cheshire cat grin.

Oliver gave him a peck on the lips. “Seriously, though, don’t be surprised if I go dark for a while. There’s a lot of things that I need to get done before the semester ends.”

Elio gave him a chuckle. He hadn’t been to college yet, but if being Samuel Perlman’s son had taught him anything, it was that college was fucking stressful. Even his badass biker boy didn’t seem immune to it, which was a shame. Although, Elio would be more than happy to provide a little stress relief, should Oliver need it.

As soon as Elio opened his mouth to offer such a service, Oliver was already fast asleep.

Elio ordered himself an uber shortly after Oliver passed out. He normally hated taking the walk of shame into his own house, but he hadn’t packed an overnight bag and he had medication he needed to take in the morning. It was sufficiently late, though, and the only sound he could hear in the house was his father’s deep breathing. He moved blindly through the house. Elio had lived here since he could walk, so navigating the house without turning on the lights wasn’t too difficult.

Once he was back in his room, he sent a text to Oliver, letting him know he was safe and that he’d gone home. And then, as soon as he plugged in his phone and got under the covers, Elio found himself passing out.

 

* * *

 

By the time Elio made his way downstairs for his morning coffee, Samuel Perlman was already fully dressed for work and enjoying one of his wife’s legendary soft-boiled eggs.

“I didn’t hear you come home last night. I thought you might still be out.”

Elio shrugged as he started up the espresso machine. “I got back home after you guys fell asleep. I tried to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you up.”

Annella came over with her own soft-boiled egg and toast smothered with apricot preserves. They were probably for her, but Elio snagged a slice of toast while the machine fired up. “How did your date go?” she asked, seemingly unphased by the theft. “You were out for a long time.”

“I think it went pretty well. I like him a lot, and he said he wanted to go on another date, so I didn’t scare him off.”

“Well, you’re welcome to bring him over whenever you’re comfortable,” Annella provided.

Elio figured that she was probably a little annoyed that he’d met Oliver outside rather than bring him in, but it was just the first date! Oliver didn’t need to meet his super-accomplished PhD-carrying parents or hear embarrassing stories about how he used to run around the backyard naked as a toddler. That was _at least_ third date material.

“And speaking of bringing people over,” Samuel cut in. “I’ve been emailing back and fourth with Oliver, and it seems like he’s interested in coming over for dinner tonight!”

Elio groaned. It was bad enough that he had to hear about this super lame Oliver all the goddamn time, now he had to eat next to the guy too? He was probably some super pretentious future Republican who jerked off to pastel-coloured polo shirts or whatever else boring goyim find titillating. Alright, with a last name like “Goldfarb” he probably wasn’t goyische per say, but there was no way someone who spend all day reading dusty old literature all day was fun to be around. He was goyische in spirit, if not in heritage.

He was about to voice all of these complaints when Samuel held up a hand. “Don’t even start with me, Elio. I know you’re sick of hearing about him and I’ve pulled back some, but he’s still a student I’m working very closely with. He’s new to the area and he probably hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in months.”

Elio crossed his arms. “Fine. But I’m not gonna sit around and talk about… Orpheus or whatever it is he’s writing his dumb thesis about.”

“That’s not--” Samuel cut himself off and waved his hand away. “I never said you had to do that. Oliver is a nice guy and I think the two of you would get along very well. Even if you don’t, the least you can do is be polite and hospitable. But right now, you’re acting like a petulant child and I know you’re better than that.”

Elio grabbed his espresso from the maker and took it up to his room. He took a couple sips before checking his phone.

He’d gotten a couple texts from Oliver since he’d went downstairs. One was him thanking Elio for letting him know that he’d gotten home safely. (Apparently he’d been worried when he’d woken up to find Elio missing.) The other was the standard “I had a good time, I’d like to do this again” post-date text that shouldn’t have made Elio as excited as it did.

Why couldn’t his dad try to get him to be friends with someone like _his_ Oliver, not some stuffy PhD student in a sweater vest. His Oliver was handsome, daring, and surprisingly sweet, leagues past the other guys Elio had dated.

And besides, he _knew_ his parents would never like the fact that he was dating someone who wore leather and rode a motorcycle. They’d be polite about it, of course, but they’d probably profile Oliver as some sort of a delinquent and beg him to _please find a nice guy_.

Elio sighed. Maybe Oliver would be his knight in shining armour and free him from dinner with Boring Oliver.

 

* * *

 

After several shifts at work (during which Oliver was suspiciously absent), the day of reckoning finally arrived.

Was it immature to try and hide in his bedroom and hope no one would notice his absence? Maybe. Was it effective? Absolutely not.

“Elio, you need to get ready,” his mother chided from the doorway. “If you don’t choose an outfit, I will pick one for you.”

Elio groaned, but got off, where he was stretched out on his belly. “Do I really have to?” he asked.

“For the twentieth time, yes,” his mother insisted. “Oliver is a very nice young man and I’m sure you’ll get along famously once you get to know each other…”

“I don’t _want_ to get to know your Oliver,” Elio protested and listlessly sorted through his clothes. He’d rather be on a date with _his_ Oliver, but he’d said he was busy with “school stuff” and then apologised with several heart emojis.

Elio had also asked Marzia for an excuse not to be here, but she was at the opera with her parents and Elio hadn’t been able to get a ticket on such short notice.

So dinner with his parents and their precious Oliver it was. He sighed, thinking that his parents were probably going to ask him to play something on the piano after dessert. For a moment, he contemplated playing badly on purpose, but he was too selfish for that. No, let Oliver be impressed, Elio was not going to make a fool out of himself in front of some ancient history student.

Elio got dressed in his best clothes out of spite: the one Versace shirt he owned, which was patterned with Medusa heads. He didn't want to look like he was slumming it when he mets with his parents’ precious golden boy.

He looked at his appearance in the mirror one last time and rolled his eyes. Elio already knew that he was going to complain about that dinner to _his_ Oliver later on.

Reluctantly, he made his way downstairs. It felt like a funeral procession.

...maybe he’d play a death march once his parents asked him to have a go at the piano. it would’ve matched his state of mind perfectly

His mother smiled at him and gave his choice of clothes a look of approval. She’d helped him pick out the shirt when he’d put it on his Hanukkah wish list.

“How long until he gets here?” Elio asked. He tried not to whine for his parents’ sake, but if it came out that way, it wasn’t his fault.

“Well, if he’s punctual, which I believe he will be, he should be here in about ten minutes,” Samuel answered.

“And how long is he going to stay?” That one was definitely a whine.

“None of that, please,” his mother cut in. “We aren’t asking you to become his best friend. We are just asking you to be civil to him.”

“I don’t know, if Elio gives him a chance, I think they could become good friends,” his father remarked.

“Could you stop talking about me like that when I’m right here in the room with you?” Elio huffed. Frustrated, he sat down at the piano and began improvising. It was the easiest way for him to cool off before Boring Oliver arrived. Even though he was annoyed that he had to be present during the dinner, he also didn’t want to come across like a spoiled teenager. (Which, admittedly, he was.)

“Tesoro, that’s a great idea,” his father said. “You could play the piano for Oliver tonight. He’s a great fan of music and…”

Elio stopped playing. “I’ll be civil,” he said, “but please don’t ask me to play for him, too.”

“If you say so.”

“And don’t call me Elly-belly in front of him!” Elio added, a second before the doorbell rings.

“Punctual, like I said,” his dad remarked and got up to open the door.

Elio allowed himself one last grimace, before he reluctantly got up as well. He was mentally preparing himself for a wasted evening, already hearing his father speaking with their guest in the hallway--

Why did he know that voice?

He suspicions were only confirmed once Samuel entered the room with a very familiar-looking blond man.

The leather was gone as was the eyeliner, but he had on a very nice black collared shirt that hugged his biceps fantastically. His hair was done in its usual neat style, though it seemed he was careful not to crush it under his bike helmet.

He looked… nice. Cleaned up.

“Oliver?” Elio asked. “What are you doing here?”

There was no logical explanation for his presence that Elio could come up with. Maybe whatever “school stuff” he had this evening fell through or was finished early, and now he’d decided to show up and rescue Elio? But he would have said something before showing up. And the way he was dressed...

Oliver appeared to be equally dumbfounded at seeing Elio, and once he recovered his speech, he didn't offer any answers. “I could ask you the same,” Oliver saud. “What are you...wait a moment,” he adds and looks from Elio to his parents and back again. “Your dad is my supervisor?”

“You’re Boring Oliver?!” Elio asked.

“You already know each other?” Elio’s mother asked.

Elio shared a look with Oliver, who looked just as helpless as Elio felt. His head was still reeling from trying to associate _his_ Oliver with Boring Oliver, who probably had the personality of a white picket fence.

“This is awkward,” Elio mumbled.

“What’s going on?” Elio’s father asks.

Elio stepped forward to stand beside Oliver. “Uh, Mom, Dad, you remember that date I went on last week? Well, Mom and Dad, this is him. Though, uh, I didn’t think you’d known him already.” He felt his cheeks flush. All this time spent running around and worrying about what they’d think of Oliver and his dad was pretty much ready to adopt the guy?

Well, now he just felt silly.

Elio’s mother looked like she has a hard time controlling her facial expression. “We told you that you’d like him,” she said wryly.

For all of his bitching and complaining, his parents were genuinely just trying to set him up with a guy they thought he’d like. That he _did_ like. A lot.

He squoze his eyes shut and took a breath. “I’m sorry. You guys were right and I was acting like a piece of shit. I just… I wanted to make my own decisions and I started acting like a bit of a bastard. I keep forgetting that you guys just… genuinely look out for me sometimes.”

Oliver cleared his throat. “This… sounds personal. Should I go and let you guys talk it out?”

“No, stay.” Elio grabbed the man’s elbow. “From the way my dad’s been talking about you, I’m pretty sure he’s ready to adopt you. This shit’s your problem now too.”

Annella gave him a smile. “Of course we look out for you, Tesoro. Things couldn’t have been easy for you after all your friends moved out for college.”

“Maybe I went a bit overboard with the praise,” Samuel added, “But, Oliver is a very accomplished young man. I just can’t help myself.”

Oliver blushed. “Hey, I’m really not that awesome. You raised a pretty cool son, though. Even if he is kind of a piece of shit sometimes.” He punctuated that with a kiss to Elio’s cheek. “Anyway, Mrs. P, I hear you’re a pretty impressive cook. If you’ll still have me, I’d like to try whatever you’ve made.”

Annella laughed. “Of course we’d love to have you, Oliver!”

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit us!  
> Here are [Sunset's social media](https://linktr.ee/Binary_Sunset)  
> [Annette's tumblr](https://almost-annette.tumblr.com/)


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